by Lee Stephen
Scott’s instinct was to say, “Calm down, sir,” but he stifled back the words. His gaze stayed fixed on Esther. “That’s all well and good, but we have no way of knowing where this device is.”
“Well, there were clean-up crews, right?” Esther asked him. “Salvage teams?”
“Yes, but…”
She continued on. “All we need to know is who they were, if it was a person, or a base, or whatever.”
Cutting in, Lilan said simply, “Nagoya.” The others eyed him. “Nagoya has always been a hub for alien salvage. I’d be willing to bet they had a hand in the clean-up.”
Okay, now this was going somewhere. “Nagoya handles all salvage?”
“They handle a lot. I won’t say all of it, but considering the size of that particular incident, and considering it’s on this side of the globe, I’d probably be willing to put some money on it.”
“How much money?” Scott asked, not in jest.
Leaning back in his chair, the colonel answered, “I wouldn’t bet the house, but I’d still put something down.” His attention shifted to Valentin, as if the keeper was somehow their chief decision-maker. “It’s worth taking a look. However, uhh, we plan on doing that.”
Valentin raised a hand as if to deflect any responsibility.
“I’ll contact Antipov after the meeting,” Scott said. “If anyone knows how to get into a facility, it’s him. He orchestrated Cairo, after all.”
“Which ended in a bloodbath,” said David with a half-frown.
Scott gave him a look. It wasn’t untrue. Right onto the next subject: Lilan’s video message. “So, one of the things we’ve been talking about,” Scott said to the group at large, “was the possibility of Lilan recording a message to the world from here—without the location of this place being linked to it, of course.” It was important to get that part in, for Valentin’s sake. “Just so everybody else knows, our plan is to have Lilan record a message stating what happened to him and Falcon Platoon, then we’ll have that message sent to some news outlets.” He looked at the colonel. “Sir, if you want to continue?”
“Sure thing,” Lilan said. He looked down the table. “The minute the world sees that we’re alive, they’re going to start asking EDEN some tough questions. That’s good for us. Hell, for as much as we’re talking about Nagoya, it might just be that video that opens up this whole can of worms.” Faintly, he smirked. “EDEN’s used to being wholeheartedly trusted, but trust me, this is the kind of story the media lives for. It’ll catch on like wildfire.”
“And Archer will be in the crosshairs,” Scott said.
The colonel nodded. “The gist of the message is going to be simple: we’re alive, and EDEN tried to kill us. I’ll be careful not to give the Nightmen too much credit, no offense,” he said, looking at Valentin and the other Nightmen, “as I don’t want it to seem like I’m under duress. This isn’t about EDEN versus the Nightmen to me. This is about what EDEN is versus what it’s supposed to be.”
“I have arranged for the video to be shot in one of our storage rooms,” said Valentin. “It is being cleared out as we speak.”
Clearing his throat simply because he needed to, Scott’s attention turned to the keeper. “So how exactly are we going to get this video out without leading to Northern Forge?”
“Simple drop-off,” Valentin answered. “After it is recorded, someone will fly out of Norilsk to Moscow to have it delivered. Several copies will be left with several news agencies. All will be clean.”
Good enough for Scott. “Moving on,” he said, looking at David. “What’s the word on weapons and equipment?”
Shifting in his chair, David answered, “Will and I talked to the forge master, and it sounds like there’s more than enough Nightman armor here for all the men. They’re gonna work on something specific for Esther.” Looking down both sides of the table, David said, “Everyone else is no problem.” Briefly, he looked at Tiffany. “Just assuming you’re not going to need ground assault gear.” She gave him a thumbs-up.
With nothing further to say in regards to weapons and armor, Scott moved on to the Pariah. “So Travis, what’s the deal with the ship? How stripped is she?”
The pilot frowned. “She’s pretty stripped. Beyond the very basics, and I’m talking pure flight controls, she has almost nothing else. The on-board nav systems are shot, no uplink to the satellite—which is a good thing—no defense system.”
“Defense system?” Scott asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Right, so,” Travis explained, “first-generation Vultures like the Pariah actually had real defense systems installed—flares, chaffs, the works. Now, when I say first-generation, I’m not even talking about all M1s. Even M1s received small technology upgrades over time.” He smiled sadly. “The Pariah was an original, though. Her systems are designed to offset human combatants as much as extraterrestrial. So if we had those systems, it’d be a huge benefit. She’d be a rarity.”
Smirking across from him, Tiffany said, “I think she’s already a rarity, Travis.”
Travis agreed.
Speaking up on his own behalf, Valentin said, “I will speak to Artur after the meeting. It is he who orders all the materials needed for the forge. Perhaps he can order new components for your transport, as well.”
“That would be incredible.” Travis’s smile widened a bit. “I’ll go with you if you want—I can give him a full checklist of everything she needs. There are some external components, too, that could use a makeover.”
Valentin nodded as if the suggestion was acceptable. He looked to Scott again. “Is there anything else before we leave to tend to these things?”
There was—and though it wasn’t something Scott was eager to discuss, discuss it, he would. Everyone in the Fourteenth deserved to know. “One more thing. It’s about Sveta.” As Scott drew a preparatory breath, the others at the table looked at him with concern. “Some of you may have gotten word already, but Svetlana is currently missing.”
“Missing?” asked Esther, genuine confusion coming over her.
“That’s right. Antipov lost contact with Oleg shortly after EDEN attacked Novosibirsk. Right now, he doesn’t even know where they might be.”
The scout leaned forward with a follow-up. “But surely Oleg could’ve just lost his ability to communicate, right? He could be in hiding with her, or…” She shook her head, unable to find another example off the cuff.
“I’d love it if one of those possibilities was true, but by the sound of things, they are genuinely MIA. I mean, this is all coming from Antipov. He’s been giving me insight into Vector, for crying out loud. If Oleg or Svetlana was somewhere on his radar, he’d have let me know.”
Eyes narrowing, Esther asked, “Would he?”
Tightening his lips together then glancing briefly at Esther, Scott answered, “Yes, I think he would.” He hadn’t been sure how or even whether to bring this up—but if he was going to, this was as good a time as any. “One of the nurses here at Northern Forge is Antipov’s daughter.” Eyebrows across the Fourteenth shot up. “Her name is Marina. You’ll recognize her, if you’ve ever seen Antipov. I highly doubt Antipov would feed us too many lies with his daughter here with us.” Not that Scott would ever use her as leverage, but Antipov would still think of those things. “Frankly, Antipov has no reason to lie—and if he was going to lie, he’d probably try and convince us that Svetlana was just fine. For him to tell us this, it’s probably true.
“But the thing I want to say is this: my ability to function will not be compromised. You all know how I feel about Sveta.” Scott looked at the Falcons. “And I’m sure those of you new to this outfit are figuring it out now.” Nodding toward David, Scott made eye contact with several others directly down from him. “David has his wife and kids. Jay, you have your family. Falcons, you guys all have loved ones back home—fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers. No one here owns a monopoly on the pressure that that causes. We’re all suffering in our own way, even tho
ugh we may not be saying it. So let’s keep that in mind when the stress levels rise—not that they aren’t high already.” He shook his head with disgust. “Then let’s blow the lid off EDEN Command, because those guys sure have it coming.”
“Amen to that,” said Lilan. Several others offered utterances of support.
When Scott paused, Valentin looked at him. “Is there anything else that needs to be discussed in this group meeting?”
Before Scott could answer, Esther chirped, “I think we should consider releasing Ju`bajai.”
Whoa, Scott thought. She was on that train again?
Valentin looked at her scrupulously. “I already discussed this with Captain Remington. That request is absurd and not happening.”
Leaning forward at the table, Esther said, “I just really think we’re overlooking a valuable—”
Pointing to Esther, Valentin looked at Scott. “Is she deaf?”
Scott sighed. “No, she is not.”
“Scott, please,” she said.
“Esther.” The look Scott gave her could not have been more indicative of no. What would prompt her to even ask that here, after he’d already relayed Valentin’s prior answer to her? It was almost a little suspicious.
Closing her eyes in defeat, Esther leaned back in her chair.
“Are there any relevant questions?” Valentin asked the table. No one spoke. “Then we have many things to get started on.” He looked at Lilan. “Colonel, if you will come with me, I will bring you to the room where you will record the video message.” Lilan affirmed. “The rest of you are dismissed.” Without another word, he turned for the door and left. After giving Scott a brief look, Lilan followed the keeper out.
As the operatives began to dismiss, Scott’s attention went to Esther. “Ess, go talk to the forge master. The sooner he can get you in some tactical armor, the better.”
“Yes, sir.”
Scott snagged her as she tried to hurry past. “Hey.” She blinked her brown eyes at him. “Is there something going on with you and Ju`bajai?”
“What? What do you mean?”
“The way you asked for her release after I already told you what Lukin said. It was almost…” When she offered nothing back, he just shook his head. “Go get that armor.”
The scout lowered her chin. “Yes, sir.” Quickly, she left the room.
So this was it—the beginning of an operation. If the evidence that could blow this thing open was in Nagoya, then that’s where they’d go—someway, somehow. Despite his last conversation with Antipov, Scott was eager to speak with the eidola chief again. He was fairly certain Antipov would be equally eager, if for no other reason, to receive assurance that the Golden Lion hadn’t suffered some emotional break upon hearing about Svetlana. Slipping out of the room, Scott made his way to his quarters before anyone could intercept him.
As Scott knew it would, the conversation with Antipov went smoothly. The eidola chief confirmed what Lilan speculated: that Nagoya had in fact been the facility to receive the salvage from the Interspecies Conflict. Though Antipov had no initial ideas as of how to infiltrate Nagoya, he made it quite clear that there were some agents of his that had access—albeit limited. He requested that Scott give him a day or two, during which his resources would be tapped into from afar and a concrete plan could be formed. Scott was more than happy to hear it.
The only other business to tend to was business that wasn’t Scott’s responsibility. Shortly after his conversation with Antipov concluded, Scott was informed by Valentin that Lilan’s video message had been recorded. Not wanting to waste time by requesting that he review the video, Scott gave Valentin his blessing to send the video off to Moscow, trusting Lilan’s judgment to have done the job correctly.
Things were moving. The Fourteenth—and the Falcons—had direction. All compasses pointed to Nagoya. Soon, the truth would be unveiled, and the crimes of EDEN against its own would come to light.
Until then, it was time to start taking care of things at home. Or at least, their temporary home at Northern Forge. And for Scott, there was no better place to begin than with Max Axen.
* * *
Needless to say, this wasn’t what Scott had hoped for. Upon arriving at the medical bay on Level-4, Scott, David, Becan, and Jayden found themselves denied access to the room entirely. No update had been given to them regarding Max’s condition, and they hadn’t even spoken to Gavriil at all. All they knew was that work of some sort was in progress to get the technician “admitted.”
It was as helpless a feeling as Scott had felt in a very long time, at least as it pertained to someone being in the hospital—or a room that was the equivalent of one, anyway. It harkened back to the day Galina Lebesheva died, a victim of Scott’s blind fury and recklessness. That Max wasn’t Scott’s fault—at least, not directly—didn’t make the situation feel much better. More so than Galina, though, this reminded Scott of his parents.
It was a wound that rarely reopened. He was a teenager, barely old enough to make a good decision on his own, when he’d lost them to a drunk driver. His mother had been killed instantly in the almost-head-on collision. His father died several hours later at Lincoln General Hospital. He didn’t remember every detail of that night, as it seemed more like a blur than anything else, but he recalled being at the hospital, waiting to hear something. Anything.
Then wishing he’d heard nothing at all.
Prior to the events at Novosibirsk, it had been the worst night of his life and a subject of much bitterness until he’d learned to accept it. He never dreamed it would be a night that would prepare him for the rest of his life. Nicole. Sergei Steklov, the young man he murdered. Galina. Svetlana was only the latest victim.
But Svetlana was still out there.
Sighing deeply, Scott leaned back against the wall and waited. At some point, they’d have to hear something. Gavriil’s crew knew they were out there. It was just a matter of time before the door opened with news.
The door opened. As all four of the operatives leapt upright, Gavriil himself walked through it. “Well, I have news.”
About vecking time.
“Your friend is in stable condition,” the doctor said, much to the relief of Scott and company. “That was not a given, considering the way he was removed from Novosibirsk Hospital and secretly transported here. But, he is okay.”
“Can you elaborate on that?” Scott asked, echoing the question on all of their minds.
Gavriil nodded. “He seems to have received a bullet wound right here,” he said, pointing to a spot on the right side of his throat. “I have seen some forge workers who received injuries such as these from one means or another—very few of them survive. Your friend is lucky.” He crossed his arms. “As far as the details of his condition, I am afraid I will not be able to tell you as much as you’d like to hear. We are receiving him post-treatment for his wound.”
Not wild about that opening statement, Scott listened on.
“He has a tracheostomy tube in his neck to support his airway due to the injury he sustained. He is attached to a ventilator, which is helping him breathe, so we are keeping him sedated. The last thing we want is for him to start ripping things out. We will likely try to ween him slowly off of sedation, but…no offense, we would rather not have any of you present while we do that. He will likely be very disoriented and not even himself. Even after he is awake, he still may require medication to keep him calm. Think days for this process, not hours.” The doctor sighed. “He also has a chest tube, meaning he must have had a lung collapse, but that has also been dealt with by whoever treated him. I am hopeful that that can be removed soon. The tracheostomy tube may or may not be permanent, too. Sometimes they are only needed temporarily.” Smiling sadly, he said, “And that is all that I know.”
It wasn’t much, but Scott was thankful to hear it all. It was better than not knowing anything. “What’s his prognosis?”
“His prognosis? I am confident he will survive.”
>
That was good. “Do you think he’ll be able to recover fully?”
For several seconds, Gavriil simply stared, the emotionless expression on his face indicating that the answer they were about to receive was not one that they wanted. Drawing a breath, the doctor said simply, “I do not know. We will have to observe and see. We are receiving him after the fact.” Seeming to judge by the looks on the others’ faces that his answer wasn’t as informative as they’d hoped, he said, “Speaking, eating, drinking. All of these things become part of the challenge when you have a tracheostomy tube in your throat. He will have to relearn them to some extent.” He frowned. “Unfortunately, we do not have a resident respiratory therapist.” When the group looked at him despondently, he sighed. “Please listen and understand. Your friend is very, very lucky to be alive, let alone stable right now. He must have been treated relatively quickly after sustaining the gunshot wound. If not for that, I am positive he would have perished. We are not in a perfect position to know the exact road he must face to recovery. It does not appear that he suffered any brain damage from the limited chart information that came with him, but it will be easier to assess this once he is awake.”
“Can we at least go in and see him?” asked Jayden.
The doctor hesitated just enough to prompt the others to echo the request. At long last, under mounting pressure, he bowed his head in acquiescence. “I will allow you in to see him. He is sedated, so he will not know you are there. And please do not touch him. But yes, I will let you go in, for a brief visit.”
That was all any of them could have asked for. Standing behind the doctor as he turned to enter the medical bay, the four transfers were escorted inside.
As prepared as Scott thought he was to see Max up close, nothing could have prepared him for the reality of Max’s condition. Besides having the obvious tube in his neck, Max’s face looked outright beat up, bruised and bloodied. He looked swollen. Yellow.
